


A Ghost of Blades

by Dragonbloomer



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Mythology/Religion, Background Character Death, Blood and Violence, Character Study, Gen, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Permanent Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 10:16:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15386589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonbloomer/pseuds/Dragonbloomer
Summary: Shot down on a solo mission after the Blades of Marmora heard rumors of a weapon strong enough to defend against the Galra, Keith crash lands after a strange light tears through his ship. Forced to fight in a semi-sacred entertainment gladiatorial tournament for the worshipped "Ghost," Keith must either figure out his strengths or die in the process.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This fanfic is for the Voltron Gen Reverse Mini-bang. The art is by the wonderful Zenthisoror (click the link to see source). I had a lot of fun writing it, and hope you enjoy it too.

Keith should have known better than to accept the mission. Just like he should have known that Krolia was his mother. Or that his weird habits and tendencies were of alien origin. And even that there was a reason why he was so drawn to the caves in Arizona, despite being kicked out of the Garrison and forced to live in that run-down shack he had stumbled upon.

He had never been human enough. Not to his classmates, not to Allura, and certainly not to the Blades who had accepted him into their midst. When Kolivan had told him that he would be sent to a strange unnamed planet in the middle of an isolated system for that sole reason, he should have known that no good would come out of it.

Keith Kogane, born in the Southern USA, originally told he was 100% Korean, just below average in height, and above average in his piloting skills, was certainly not human enough to bypass whatever was keeping the Galra off of the planet.

But he let his impulsivity and curiosity drive him along, even with his doubts. And here he was, engulfed in a flash of light too bright to keep his eyes open. One month into being an adult, and he was already falling to his death five thousand meters above ground level.

His first thought? _Do you still go to heaven if you’re millions of light years away from Earth?_

His second? A series of words that would make even Shiro pale. Heh. Did the rest of the paladins know about that little secret? Pidge would love that.

Wait, maybe the loss of air pressure was affecting him more than he thought. He regained focus on the panel in front of him, ignoring the rush of clouds flying past on the flickering screen. The only other light was the red emergency one above his head. Even with the loss of power, the ship should protect him from most of the effects, though the g-force was already pushing his head back against his seat.

It was the impact he needed to worry about. He was going too fast to safely parachute out, at least not in his Marmora suit. If he could angle the ship back horizontal, he might be able to slow down marginally.

If only he was back in his Voltron uniform. Already, he could see black spots in his vision. And with the clouds, there was no way to know for certain whether or not he was flickering in and out of consciousness. No longer with enough energy to hold onto the wheel, Keith found himself pinned back by the sheer force.

How funny, that even his death will be the result of not being human enough.


	2. Chapter 2

Keith wasn’t sure what hurt more, the stabbing pain in his head, or the more general, but no less painful feeling spreading down his legs.  If Lance were here, he would probably make some innuendo, and mention all the girls that would probably heal him back to health. As bad as things were, at least he was alone. He didn’t want to imagine how much Hunk would have vomited by this point. Though, he wouldn’t have mind the talking. It would have been a good distraction.

Instead, he focused on determining how bad things were. First, he was alive. Yay for miracles, he supposed.  Not so good, he hadn’t realized his ship could become twisted in such a way that he could see no opening out of the cabin, and the front panel had somehow trapped his legs beneath it. Probably the reason for the pain now that he thought about it.

Thankfully, other than some minor scraps along his arms, some bruised ribs, and what may be developing into a concussion, he seemed pretty well-off. He could still reach his blade, and with some awkward maneuvering, was able to pull it out from his sheath. If he was careful, he could probably pry the panel far enough off his legs to lift himself out. The exterior would be harder to cut, but he could worry about that afterwards.

Keith was able a quarter of the way through the paneling when he heard a pounding sound from behind. An odd high-pitched sound, stopping and going almost like the chirps of a bird, could be heard. His heart skipped a beat as it continued closer to where he was trapped. Pulling his blade back out in the open, he waited.

He waved a hand towards his face as the heat in the ship grew, and the pounding changed into the grinding of a saw. If he was religious, he would pray that they would not be hostile. But he wasn’t, and he could only hope that they were not the same group who shot him down. If he wasn’t trapped under the panel, or if he had something better than his knife, maybe he could defend himself.

But for once, forced to do nothing but wait, he remembered Shiro’s words. “Patience yields focus.” Sure, on a normal day, he could barely remember the words during the middle of lunch. He had never been able to keep it in mind once he was in the midst of a battle, but today was already far enough from normal that maybe he could.

A piece of the ceiling above him crashed towards his head before a hand reached down and pulled it back up and out of the way. From his angle, three figures could be viewed. He could tell they were humanoid, their faces hidden behind masks, and their long reedy arms holding out wide swords.

“Surrounder, Galra,” the one at the front hissed out. “We know what your kind does.”

He cringed. Dammit, it was just his luck that a group of people who could become Voltron’s allies were probably going to skewer him any second – _tick_ – now.

Tucking away his blade before they could see it, he raised his hands slowly. Patience, just like Shiro would want. He looked up at the leader, face completely neutral. “I’m not your enem-”

“It doesn’t look like a Galra,” the alien to the right said. “Look at its arms. They’re almost as short as the Sacarans.” She laughed.

The one farthest away finally stepped up. “If the Ghost brought it down, then it is our duty to kill it.” He jumped into the cabin, his sword raised high.

Faster than he could think, Keith brought his sword up, barely blocking the other from cutting him in two. Quickly, he grabbed his bayard, just barely reaching the alien’s shoulder.

He shook away, but quickly retaliated with a kick to Keith’s face.

Only a well-placed arm protected him, though he knew there would be a bruise if he looked. He pulled as close to the alien as possible, aiming both blades towards his unprotected hand.

In the end, it wasn’t Keith’s skills, weakened by his injuries and struggling to remain conscious, that saved him. Instead, it was the alien’s companions forcefully holding him back.

One pulled the sword out of the other's hand. “Enough, Thierry! Look at it with good intent, and tell me that his skills are not fit for the Ghost.”

The fighter blinked his eyes closed and sighed. “Fine. I know you’re right. And if the Ghost wants this mutt, then who am I to judge?” He stared at Keith with a fire in his eyes, and a smile that easily told him how much he wanted to continue.

His lost his grin when the leader elbowed him in the side and watched him drop to the ground. “You better,” she frowned. “If I have to tell your mother we were forced to let you go…”

“No!” he yelped, looking down guiltily after a second. “I’ll respect your decisions.”

Their conversation continued, but Keith soon lost track. He wasn’t sure if the cabin was darkening, or if it was just him. Before he could decide, he was out.


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing Keith noticed as he slowly woke up was the softness of the blankets above him, and the slight cool breeze that floated by keeping him from overheated. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this comfortable. Certainly not with the Blades, and while the Castle was large, its bedding was lacking. His shack contained a bumpy sofa, and the Garrison may have well had given them cots.

He finally had the energy to open his eyes. His clothing had been replaced with a loose one-piece, the usual pressure of his blade gone. _Where was he?_ Stripes of pale blue and tan decorated the walls. He hadn’t seen those colors together since the paladins and he had left Arizona. He couldn’t see any windows from his angle, and no decor lined the room.

The last twenty-four hours felt like a dream compared to the comfort he was currently in. There were no cords attached to various parts of his body, no beeping machines humming along. If it weren’t for the numbness he felt, he could almost say he was never hurt. Probably strong pain meds, though how he was given them, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He was still too out of it to turn his head, so he closed his eyes again. Perhaps next time he woke up he could focus on what had happened to him and plan.

What seemed like a couple minutes later, Keith shook awake to the sound of a door sliding open outside his periphery. Thankfully, he was able to at least move his head as one of the aliens walked in. This one appeared unarmed, dressed in the same calming blue as the walls. He held a glass with a red beverage, and what looked like a syringe without a needle.

The tension in his shoulders loosened. _Just a nurse_ , he told himself. They wouldn’t have healed him just to kill him after all.

The nurse gave him a smile and placed the items on the table beside the bed. “Good, you’re awake. We were beginning to worry about you.” He reached a hand towards Keith’s shoulder. “I just need to give you your next dose. You were in a major accident, though thankfully your injuries are healing quite well.”

Keith was still too tired to do much protesting, and he still too numb to feel more than a slight pressure from the needle. “Who are you?” he muttered.

The alien gave the same sort of smile, one which never seemed to meet his large, neon yellow eyes. “I am Joachim, from a city the direction of the morning sun.”

Oh. He shouldn’t be surprised by the answer. Apparently, it was introduction time then. Trying to keep from ending up back asleep, he tried to push himself up against the backboard.

The nurse’s eyes widened, as he reached out to help. “Be careful. Wouldn’t want to hurt yourself more than you have, now would you.”

He nodded, if only to keep him happy. “My name Keith,” he finally forced out after a deep breath, “from the Blade of Marmora.”

For the first time, a true emotion appeared on the alien’s face. Elation perhaps? “I didn’t know the Galra practiced the art of sword mastery. Though from the way the dancers speak of their experience with you, perhaps that is not a true representation. After all, the way Masci speaks of it, you may have skills, but the Galra cannot truly understand the grandeur of the sword.”

Keith could only raise his eyebrows.

The nurse guiltily shrugged. “Terribly sorry. Not the time, especially with the medicine. Perhaps the loss of your legs was truly a blessing from the Ghost. We can give you much better ones after all. Skin and bone cannot compare to the crystal that the Ghost provides us.”

Legs? He looked at the bottom of the bed, noticing for the first time how the blankets lay far too flat. How didn’t he notice? Sure, the medicine numbed him, but he should have noticed. His hands began to shake, his breaths increasing in speed. Try as he might, he couldn’t coordinate himself well enough to throw off the blanket, only ending up hitting himself in the process.

“Now stop that,” the nurse said as he applied pressure on his arms. “Your survival will allow you to bless the Ghost with your battle to the death. A worthy cause that all should strive for.”

 _What?_ “N-no. I don’t care about some weird belief.” He could see black dots forming in the corner of his eyes as he lost control of his breathing, but he couldn’t find it in him to slow down.

“Hush. If you practiced enough, you may even win. We haven’t had an outsider participate in thousands of decaphoebs. Perhaps the Ghost would humor you, even with your lineage.”

Keith almost didn’t see him push a button on his shirt, lighting up a dark purple. “What was that?” he hissed. “What did you do?”

He gave him what Keith could only assume was a comforting squeeze of his shoulder. “I’m not a sword dancer. Never had the courage, but your rescuers have been training for most of their lives. They can explain everything to you much better than I could.”

There was little he wanted less than even more people crowding in, but even if it was just him and the nurse, it wasn’t like he could escape. Between the medicine and the obvious lack of a body part, he was trapped. And there was nothing he could do about it.

But Shiro had a prosthetic, and if he understood correctly, they wanted him to be able to fight. It didn’t explain the whole “fighting to the death” scenario the nurse seemed to be talking about, but he was already a fair fighter. If he could gain an advantage, he could probably escape. This “Ghost” wouldn’t shoot down their own ships, would it? And who knew, maybe the dancer soldiers really would explain everything. He could hope at least.

Maybe one of these days he would actually follow through with Shiro’s “patience yields focus.” He had survived, and he would get back to Marmora and Voltron.

 

 

It turned out, the nurse was being lenient when it came to the tournament. The soldiers were almost fanatical in their speech, reminding him of the Holy Wars back on Earth.

When two of the soldiers arrived, he was glad Thierry wasn’t with them.  He didn’t need the added stress of being told what a worthless Galra he was (though, if they hated the Galra so badly, he didn’t understand why they would let him perform, even if he was likely to die).

He was on a low enough dose of the pain medicine to be able to stay awake for more than a handful of minutes. The blanket still covered the bottom half of his body, despite the ability to move returning. After the initial panic, he didn’t want to see what must be a bloody mess.

The leader introduced himself as Masci, his lieutenant as Aethelu. It was the lieutenant that gave him a viewpoint on what the tournament meant to the species. Happening every fifty decaphoebs (and how convenient that the Blade would stumble across them mere days before it occurred, he frustratingly thought), it allowed the “Ghost” to remain at full strength, protecting them from evil forces.

The only thing that had protected him after impact was his blade. Despite looking fully human, the Ghost knew what he was from the moment he entered the atmosphere.

It was supposed to be an honor that he could fight. “If you show the judges the same skill you had in that ship, you could gain one of the top spots when fully healed. You could be remembered by the Ghost for decaphoebs to come,” the leader told him. “Your death will give the Ghost enough power to save us even longer.”

Keith wondered if they knew about Voltron, about what they – once including him – were doing to save planets like this one. Somehow, he doubted they would care.

“You should be thankful the Ghost gave you a chance to give your death meaning,” the lieutenant said one day as he was beginning physical therapy. The stumps of his legs still ached, but they were healed enough to begin using his prosthetics. They were pure metal except for the attachment, looking more like chicken feet than his own regular leg.

“Your spirit, no matter how tainted with Galran blood, will go back to the Ghost. You will live forever,” she continued as he focused on keeping his hold on the nurse for balance. “Your name will be held in the public’s memory for generations. I hope you understand this sacred duty.”

He placed pressure on his prosthetic foot. A groan escaped his mouth before he could hold it in.

“Keep going,” the nurse encouraged, adjusting his hold.

The lieutenant frowned. “Do you understand, sword dancer?”

Keith tried to keep from tensing up, but he could tell from the lieutenant’s narrowing eyes and pursed lips that he failed. “Of course, ma’am.”

She only shook her head and heading towards the entrance. “Remember, you have fifteen quintants before the ranking. Keep up your progress.”

The door slammed shut behind her, and Keith let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding in.

The nurse only chuckled. “Don’t worry. She’s just worried about the tournament. Last time we held it, she was just a child. You’re doing rather well, considering the circumstances. Let’s just keep going.”

He nodded. Sure, the aliens didn’t have as advance healing technology as on the Castle, but it was far greater than on Earth. Two weeks wouldn’t be very long, but if he worked hard, he would be prepared. And he would win.


	4. Chapter 4

There was no way in hell he was going to win. He knew that the moment he walked into the building. It was bad enough that Thierry had to guide him to the trial location. Even with the amount of improvement in his health, he could tell the competitors were out of his league. Every one of them were large and muscular, with obvious modified limbs and eyes that were nothing like his odd chicken legs.

Thierry looked over at his shocked face, and gave a snort before returning his view to looking for a good waiting position. How was he supposed to compete when he was still far below his typical grace and speed? If it wasn’t for his legs, it wouldn’t matter that they were all taller. Their longswords were built with strength and length in mind, but it wouldn’t matter if they couldn’t touch him.

But he hadn’t even been allowed a month of healing and adjusting. He knew Shiro still struggled with his own prosthetic over a year after he had gotten it. At least it had been similar to his own arm of flesh. The way Keith’s leg had been designed, where the bones stopped, and how he found himself up on his toes, was all too much for him to learn in two weeks. So instead, he had found himself heavily reliant on blocking, limiting his movements and even his ability to fight to any degree of talent.

And due to Thierry’s choice of coming almost an hour early, he now had far too much time to think. Not to say that the trip to the building hadn’t been enjoyable. He had long since grown used to the tiny bedroom and therapy room he was trapped going between. He hadn’t noticed when landing how green the sky was, a color he couldn’t remember seeing naturally on Earth. Or how the sand was a bright red that rivalled even the iron-filled rocks of Arizona.

They had taken the planet’s equivalence to a bus ride for most of it, speeding along above the living spaces. It appeared to be one only for soldiers, their weapons making him tense, though he knew there was no reason for them to attack him. Civilians lined the large sidewalks below, dressed in bright clothing that covered most of their body. The buildings themselves seemed to tower above them, a blur of blues and yellows. It was no wonder that the Galra had tried to conquer the planet if the city was anything like the rest of the world.

Beautiful, if not for the culture that existed within it.

Turning his attention back to the building, he could tell that all of the competitors seemed content in their skills. Not once did he see one with their sword out. They were professionals in a way that four kids in lions so technologically advance they may have well been magic could never be.

At least he could guess their techniques. The swords were too large to be used one-handed. No one had shields, at least from what he could see. The swords were straight, probably meant for tearing through armor. Surprising, considering the lack of protection they seemed to have. Though again, even his Marmora blade would have made more sense from the back of a horse (or the space equivalent). A weapon’s purpose didn’t need to stay constant.

But it did mean they would have heavy lunges compared to the Marmora’s form that included quick steps and constant movement. And even before his training there, he was used to knives and fights in back alleys. If he was lucky, the competitors wouldn’t be used to his own fighting form.

“Hey soldier boy, what’s that you’re guarding,” a voice pulled him out of his thoughts. One of the competitors, a young woman with a scar beneath her left eye and a smirk on her face, stood in front on him.

“Don’t mind him,” Thierry barked out. “He’s just one of the competitors.”

The grin quickly left her face. “You mean an outsider’s fighting? You’re got to be kidding me.” She patted the soldier’s shoulder. “What’s the point. Wouldn’t it be kinder to put it out of its misery? Might as well be fighting a kid.”

Thierry scowled. “He’s stronger than he looks.”

The competitor laughed. “Oh? Did he beat you?”

The soldier elbowed her away, though he didn’t seem too serious. At least, not compared to his usual actions towards Keith. “Leave me be Rhoslyn. We’re almost up.”

She shrugged, and gave a wave. “Well, good luck. Let Odilia know how it goes. She still owes you a treat after your win with the Captain.”

“Maybe before the tournament.” What almost looked like a smile appeared on his face before being replaced with his usual frown. For once, he looked like he cared about someone, though there didn’t seem to be any sadness at her entering the tournament.

Thierry turned towards Keith. “Don’t ask questions.”

He nodded, not wanting to risk making him any angrier.

“Good. Now stand up, it’s time for your test.

 

 

After all the worry about the actual tournament, the test was a piece of cake. Three judges lined one of the walls, with Thierry standing to the side. A glass wall separated them from himself, whether or not due any former incidents, he couldn’t tell.

A hologram stood in front of him, reminding him of the ones back on the Castle. This one flickered in and out, the features tinted an odd orange. “You may begin at any time,” a voice rang out from a hidden speaker. “Your movements will be recorded.”

He nodded, bouncing lightly on his feet, closing his eyes for a second before springing into action. If it wasn’t for the heavy weight of the sword in his hand, he could almost imagine himself back with Voltron fighting one of the robots.

The hologram wasn’t solid, though the practice sword would become heavier any time he hit it. The fight didn’t feel like a real one, but he supposed it was more for technique and strategy than for reality.

By the time a beep sounded through the room, and the hologram disappeared, he was exhausted. He still wasn’t back to the top of his ability. Even so, he tried not to look it as he walked back out of the room. Or when he had to wait for another three hours with Thierry staring at him the entire time. He still didn’t know why he cared. It wasn’t like they wanted him to win.

When a screen powered on above him, showing their scores, Thierry spat out one word, “Thirty-two,” before stamping off, forcing Keith to keep up with him through the crowd.

If there was one fight per day, that only gave him sixteen more quintants to improve.


	5. Chapter 5

Keith finished the positions the nurse had requested he do for the last time. They had been surprisingly helpful, and he had much better control over his leg than he did at the beginning. Perhaps he could actually win.

Thierry had refused to see him since the ranking, forcing the Lieutenant to take over the duty, and it was she who was bringing him to the tournament. They were far from the city, the only thing in sight being hills and a fence separating spectators from the fighters.

The location he was led to was covered with swords. The Lieutenant had told him they were specially prepared to keep them unharmed from the elements. Hunk probably would have understood how, but he had nodded along to the explanation.

Looking around, it became clear that many of the swords were not of the planet’s origin. The longswords that had been common at the ranking were still there, but in between were swords closer to his taste. Eventually he chooses two swords, short and wide, though he doubted they were originally meant to go together.

 He had been waiting by the gate for a good ten minutes by the time they opened. The crowd cheered from above, like this was just a football game and nothing worse would happen than an illegal punch.

His competitor raised his sword to them, shouting something he couldn’t understand under all the noise, before turning his attention to him. He was large, his sword somehow even larger.

But Keith knew that the large obstacles between them could be used to his advantage. He climbed up to one he liked, a tall pile of rocks, positioned so they wouldn’t be likely to move. Even back on Earth, he had practiced parkour. And with his prosthetics, he could keep his balance even better than before, using the long toe-like ends to hold on.

The competitor chuckled. “What do you think you’re doing, outsider?” He swung his blade out. “Stop playing and fight.”

Keith ignored him, reaching for one of the poles that intersected across the area. His prosthetic made speed impossible, but he didn’t need speed if he could wear him out. Already, he could tell the sword dancer was cocky. The idea of not being able to reach him, or else risk pulling the structure down, would do more than just annoy the man.

It would let him win.

For the first fifteen minutes, as he wandered around the poles, all that occurred was booing from the crowd and jeers from the competitor. Eventually though, he got mad.

“Get down!” he yelled. “You will have no honor once I’m done with you.”

Keith ignored him, choosing only to sit down, his legs looping around to give him a good hold.

The competitor, reduced to yelling what he could only imagine was the alien equivalent of swearing, lunged towards the position, throwing his sword upwards.

Keith catch it easily, placing it securely at an intersection, and slowly lowering himself back down to the ground.

The rest was easy, and the competitor, with fear in his eyes, knew it.

He was dead within minutes. And as he walked back out, a line of blood running down his face, he heard nothing but silence.


	6. Chapter 6

The Lieutenant left him with the nurse after that, saying that she and the other two wouldn’t be able to see the final battle. He would never admit it, but all he felt was relief. After all, it was those three that put him in the mess he was in.

The nurse led him to the final location, nervously talking about how long it had been since thirteen sword dancers had survived the first round. Or how it was an honor to be chosen even as a spectator, though with how large the final tournament was, most wouldn’t be able to see much.

He was given the same weapons as before and left alone. He couldn’t see any of the competitors, and the spectators were too far away. It was worse than one of his missions with the Blades. At least then, the Galra were in plain sight and unobservant. Here, it was a matter of finding them first.

He stayed near the edge. Not only would it give him some leeway with height, but at least he could protect himself from one direction. Safety came first, and perhaps he could avoid having to kill any more people.

At one point, he thought he heard someone screaming, and immediately turned back the way he came. The area was rockier than he liked, and he wanted to get out as soon as possible.  

“Not so fast little outsider,” a voice called out from behind.

Fuck. He turned away slowly, pulling out his blades. A woman was walking towards him, her own longsword out and ready.

“You know, I don’t think you can truly fight. I’ve heard the rumors from your battle. You tricked Alistair. Where is the honor in that?” Her eyes narrowed. “At least I’ll have the honor of killing you.” She dashed forward, raising her sword high above her head.

Before he even had the time to move out of the way, a sword appeared in the competitor’s chest. She gasped, dropping the sword.

Keith froze as he watched her fall to the ground, her eyes still seeming to watch him with hate. The sword vanished just as it appeared, before returning to the hand of the hologram behind her.

“Hello, Keith,” it said.

He began to back away, though he knew it would do no good. One moment there was nothing there, and the next there was. He couldn’t escape it.

The sword vanished, and the hologram held up his hands. “I mean you no harm, Paladin.”

Keith squeezed his hands together. He had to stay calm. “How do you know that?”

“Why shouldn’t I be able to identify the one who my lion chose?”

And it finally clicked. The ears, the faint lines underneath his cheeks, still clear even as a hologram. The armor that reminded him of his own when he was a Paladin. “You’re Alfor.”

He nodded. “His memories, at least. And I’ve been waiting for someone like you to arrive for a very long time. I can save you, boy.”

He wasn’t instinctively trusting of people, but this time, he knew he would be all right. If Red was somehow nearby, he would blame it on her. “Fine,” he allowed. “Explain.”

Alfor gave a warm smile, one that reminded him of Allura on days she was struggling but didn’t want the Paladins to know. “Have you heard of Balmeras?”

“The planets?” he nodded. “We saved one from the Galra.”

“This planet is also a Balmera, though born different from the others. Its crystals cannot reach the surface, building up inside of it. My people were never able to reach them, but we discovered that the abundance of crystals allowed the planet to protect its native population.”

“What does that have to do with the tournament?” He inwardly cringed. “I mean, it’s interesting, but how does that relate?”

“The Alteans could return power to the Balmeras where we took their crystals using our alchemy. These people do not have that ability, but just as the crystals remain in the core of the planet, the quintessence of their bodies also return there after they die. Due to the Balmera having to use more of its energy to defend against the Galra, a system was built to increase the quintessence returning.”

“So they’re doing it to save the Balmera?”

“Originally, yes, though many the justifications behind it have turned into a type of religion. Most no longer understand the significance of this location, or the purpose of the killings. I am not the only hologram left, though many of the others have been corrupted by the soldiers. However, if you can reach their computing system, you can destroy it and gain communication with the Castle.”

“Where is it?”

Alfor only waved as he turned towards the center of the tournament. “Follow me, Paladin. It is not far.”

He wasn’t sure how – and he was too cautious to question him – but Alfor seemed to instinctively know where the other competitors were, circling around any that drew too close. They stayed far enough away from any crowds, as if Alfor didn’t want to be seen.

Their path became rockier, slowing them down as they were forced to climb over the larger ones. As they neared the top of one of the hills, the thin greenery (or he supposed here it was pinkery) around them thickening until no one below them would be able to spot them. It would be far too easy for an ambush, but he pushed the thought away as quickly as it came.

By the time they reached the top, the plants had once again thinned out. A building stood in a clearing, short and stout. Blending in with its surrounding, it was hidden from anyone below.

Alfor didn’t seem nervous as he walked up to it, opening a side door with ease. “We’re almost there. Most of the others should still be out on patrol, so as long as we don’t set off any alarms we should be safe.”

Keith nodded, paying attention to anything that looked out of place in the narrow hallway. It was empty for the most part, with strange equipment he couldn’t determine the use of attached to the walls every so often. It almost reminded him of the basement of the Garrison.

Eventually, they reached another door. Alfor couldn’t hide a frown as he placed a hand on the pad beside it. “If you stay close behind me,” he told him, “we should both be able to enter before the door shuts again.”

Before the door could even open fully, Alfor was through, pulling Keith along. “Hurry now. We can’t-”

A shrill wailing filled their ears. Holograms quickly appeared from what were once empty hallways.

Alfor grimaced. He grabbed Keith and pushed him forwards. “Take two lefts and a right,” he shouted. “I’ll take care of them.”

Keith didn’t look back as he dashed forward, narrowly avoiding the sword of the closest hologram. The next door was luckily already open in the mess, and as he travelled farther away, the siren lessened in intensity.

Of course, he couldn’t be that lucky. Live soldiers, and the occasional worker blocked his path. For the first time since the crash, however, he felt alive and healthy. Between the training he received from Voltron and Marmora, and the techniques he had learned on the planet, he dodged every sword, either incapacitating or killing them all.

There was no time to think of morality.

Just as Alfor had said, he finally reached a dead end. The last door was already open when he reached it. Tired but unharmed, he held a sword out as he walked through. If it wasn’t for his current situation, he could almost pretend it was one of the old communication stations Coran had shown him back at the Castle.

But the three people waiting for him in front of the computer told him otherwise.

Somehow, Thierry looked angrier than ever, only being held back by Aethelu. She herself looked resigned, as Masci stood in front, standing straight, but ready for battle.

“Don’t make us hurt you,” he told Keith. “Return to battle and honor the Ghost.”

Keith could feel his anger boiling inside him, but he remained still. “How many people have you lied to? You know about the Balmera, don’t you? And what you’re really allowing?”

Aethelu cringed. “This is for the greater good.”

“You’re killing your own people!” he shouted. Before living with the Blades of Marmora, he probably would have attacked them at this point. “And Voltron can protect your entire planet.”

No recognition crept onto their faces at the name. Aethelu only shook his head. “We do what we must,” he said right before lunging towards him.

Keith found himself in an elaborate dancing around the three. As quick as they were, the largeness of the swords in such a confined space forced them to hold back to avoid damaging the equipment or hurting each other.

He had grown so much in the last three months that even his legs gave him no restraint. His knife flew through the air, nicking Thierry on his fighting arm, a line of green flowing down his arm. If he enjoyed how the injury slowed the alien down afterwards, he didn’t show it.

 At first, he could only place small scratches on the three. But as time wore on, their weaknesses increased while his advantages built. They shouldn’t have stood guard in such a poor fighting area.

Masci went down first, a stab to the chest going through something essential. The Lieutenant was affected the most by this, making her an easy target next.

And the anger Thierry showed only let Keith slip by with ease.

“You dishonor the Ghost,” he groaned as he fainted from one of many marks.

“I know,” Keith whispered after he was sure Thierry was out. He wouldn’t say he cared about him, but the guilt that had stayed hidden during the ordeal was slowly inching its out up.

Alfor appeared a few minutes later, looking the same as always. Even his sword looked fully clean. It didn’t take him long to enter the system and find the correct location.

“My program will destroy everything connected to the Ghost, as well as their planetary defenses,” he said. “You will be able contact Voltron. I hope, however, that when you are explaining the events that occurred, that you will not include me. I am sure my daughter has already mourned me once.”

He nodded, seeing no point in discussing the corruption of the Castle. “Is there no way your program cannot be saved?”

Alfor smiled. “No my boy, but Allura is strong, and I know she would rather see her paladin again than the memory of a person who has been long dead. I may not have known you long, but I see the same spirit in you as I did in my youth. I know that even without my help, you would have survived. Goodbye, Red Paladin.” He pressed a button and began to fizzle out until there was nothing where he was formerly standing.

Keith could feel his hands shake as he stopped over the soldiers. He was finally free. The moment he saw the faces of Voltron pop up on the screen, he couldn’t contain the huge smile that crossed his face. He wasn’t sure if he had ever been happier.

“I’m back.”


End file.
